The story so far...
The DM
The steady drip of water coaxes you back to consciousness. Bruised and
possibly broken, the very air you breathe seems to hurt. You're
covered in blood, some of it definitely your own judging by the many
cuts and gashes on your body, some of it perhaps belonging to the
other bodies around you. You force yourself up on your elbows, every
movement accompanied by a symphony of painful grunts and gasps. The
bodies of a dozen men, clad in robes black as pitch, are strewn about
you. Their hacked and mangled limbs akimbo, their faces are frozen in
the last anguished looks of their evil lives. There are other bodies
too. Dressed in an odd assortment of gear, you vaguely recognize them
as others from your group. Their names still escape you. For that
matter, so does your own. You lie back for a bit and try to remember.
[From Jack]
The green haired figure sits up and looks around, his eyes slowly
taking the scene in.
Ugh I must have had way to much to drink last night.
He thinks to himself before standing up on unsteady feet.
He breaths in slowly to settle his thoughts, looking around he takes
stock of the
situation. A quick check of his body shows no new wounds to add to
his
plethora of scars. A pat of his belt assures him that his pistol is
still in place. His clothes though a little worn seem intact.
I seem to be OK, damn sight better than most of the bodies around me.
His thoughts are still muddled and he finds it hard to focus on any
one thing. Instinctively he begins cleaning his gun, a practice he
has
used to keep the weapon in good repair and to help him think. His
sharp eyes pick out detail in the gloom even though one side of his
face has an ugly pink scar crossing it. He is short in stature and
very lean, little muscle shows on his body.
Was this because of what I had done? Who I worked for?
He looks around confused for a second.
What did I do? Who do I work for? Weren't there others with me?
He finishes cleaning his pistol and holsters it, looking down he
grabs his pack and slings it over his shoulder.
What in the world has happened to you Jack.....
Jack?.....
Yeah my name is Jack, no last name don't need one anymore.
Jack looks over the grisly scene once again and starts to pick out
the
others from his group. Taking a step towards the nearest one he says.
Hey are you alive?
[From Jace]
Upon hearing another voice, I open my eyes as they quickly adjust to
the surrounding light.
What the... Where am... How did I... Who the hell are you and why are
we surrounded but mangled bodies!
These are the first things that spring to mind and fly out my mouth as
I gather everything in. The sound of the dripping water echoing in my
sensitive ears seams to pound in my head louder than goblin battle
drums. As I go to stand up a feel the cold steel of my blades still in
my hands and look down upon their complete blackness the seems to
swallow up what little light is available. Upon seeing them faint
memories pop into my head but nothing solid enough to hold onto.
Who are you? I call out to the voice I heard a moment ago.
Better yet... Who am I!? As I grasp for my name a sharp pain causes me
to clutch my chest. As I open my shirt I am shocked at what I see. I
think out-loud. Bloody who? A relatively new tattoo burns in my chest
as what I can only hope is my own blood and sweat mixes into the still
healing skin.
Well this won't do. Instinctively hiding my weapons I begin to dig
through my backpack.
What the heck am I even looking for? As I scramble around my bag I
notice a piece of paper with the name 'Jace' on it. Unfolding it the
paper reads. "Way to go! Probably another long and lonely night of
drinking... You are Jace Kale! Check the side pocket."
I mutter under my breath. Man I must really make a habit of this to
have a reminder to myself in my bag.
Checking the side pocket as the note said I pull out a thin wooden
stick and am hit with a few more flashes of my past. As I let out a
sigh of relief I mutter "Da mihi Mortem" as I point the stick at
myself. A rush of energy runs over me and suddenly I feel a lot
better.
Well I feel somewhat better but I'm still covered in blood. Now then
who are you again? Jack was it? I'm Jace, Jace Kale. I gather we
somehow know each other. Either that or we both managed to piss off
the same person.
The DM
The first to return to the waking world, the two of you eye each
other with a sense of familiarity. You know each other of that you're
both certain, although the how and why are still mysteries. No
animosity stokes the flames nor does any sense of fear or love for
that matter. Surveying your surroundings you find you're in a rather
large cave. The dripping sound is emanating from a small spring barely
eeking out of a rocky wall and landing in a small pool at its base. A
tunnel set a few feet up on one wall appears as the only portal, in or
out.
[From Jack]
Jack nods to Jace as his eyes wander the room. "Feel like I know you,
not sure how. Lets search the room for any other survivors and useful
items."
The green haired man takes a few steps and stubs his toe in the gloom.
Grumbling under his breath Jack searches around his pockets until he
finds a small pebble. With a whistle he tosses it in the air where it
begins to glow and slowly circle his head.
Searching the cave does not turn up much but with a shout of surprise
he pries an odd looking dagger from the skull of one of the bodies.
Holding it up to inspect it in the light many small holes are apparent
in the blade. "Damn things break like twigs if ya use them too rough,
glad this one is still in one piece." He place the blade back in a
sheathe on his wrist a small click can be heard.
[From Jace]
After sizing up Jack, Jace agrees that the best course of action right
now
is to see if anything can be scavenged for the multitude of body parts
strewn about.
"Ha!" Laughing out loud Jace pulls his hand from his pocket and says.
"I was just about to offer you mine." and shows Jack a dull gray
stone.
"I guess I'll hold on to it for now, not that I really need it..."
At that Jace places the stone back in his pocket and begins to search
the bodies
and the rest of the room.
"I'm gonna go check out that pool over there." Jace whispers to Jack
as he quietly
approaches the small pool of water.
[From Farfig]
A big, big man sits up from behind some piled rocks, rubbing his head.
He looks around and a goofy grin spreads across his face. In a voice
reminisce of the beach-loving hicks, he exclaims, "Dudes! That was
some party! I can't even remember what happened! Looks like this place
is totally trashed! Time to slide out the back before the 'rents come
home, know what I'm sayin?" With a chuckle to himself, the tall human
stands up and stretches. Shaking his head to clear the cobwebs, he
mutters, "Gotta find me some more of that juice. Must have been a
wicked party..."
Finding a sword among the debris, he picks it up and finds he has no
sheath. Shrugging, he carries it in hand. He tromps through the room
to join the others, sometimes kicking the cloaked head of a corpse,
other times crushing one beneath his heavy boots. The others see a
large silver belt buckle with the name "FARFIG" holding up his
breeches.
Farfig catches up to the other two. "Hey Green-Haired Guy, thanks for
the light man. Anyone know where we are? I can't seem to remember
anything after, uhm... uh... huh?"
Farfig starts to look around and actually begins to register some of
the surroundings. He starts to pick through the bodies for loot.
[From Jace]
"Hey big guy, welcome to the land of the living. Catch!"
Jace tosses a dull gray stone to the lumbering "giant" Farfig.
"It works just like ol' green hair's stone, just hold it up above
your head and voila! Instant light. All I ask is that you keep the
light off my back.
I prefer to keep to the shadows and those tend to make that a little
difficult."
"Now then lets try to figure out how we all got here, wherever here
is, and how to get out."
[From Jack]
"I'm in the same boat as you. Don't know much other than I know you two from somewhere and we worked together. Gather up your stuff and lets get out of here."
Jack looks around the cavern one more time before setting his pack squarely on his shoulders and headding towards the entrance.
"Jace can you take point? Farfig watch our back."
What in the world kind of name is Farfig, he thinks to himself as the trio heads out.
[From Jace]
"Yeah lets get going, we'll figure out whats going on along the way."
"Keep the light off my back and stay back several yards. If I see
something
I'll either come tell you or you'll hear it. If its the later please
feel free to jump in."
Finishing up with his directions to the others, Jace quietly slips
into the shadows and
heads down the tunnel.
The DM
As the three of you pick through the remains of the cloaked bodies,
tossing jibes back and forth like old comrades, the sounds of thunder
roll into the cave.
Amongst the bodies you find several money pouches, a few scroll cases,
an emerald carved to resemble half a lock, and small black orb,
roughly the size of a large marble. They are otherwise, unarmed.
Checking your own possessions, you account for all your belongings
(none are missing) and begin picking your way towards the exit from
this cave, up the wall a little.
A few winding minutes through two other larger rooms, one shaped like
a crescent moon with a small pool near one wall and you find
yourselves near an exit. Outside it is dark, the moon and stars hidden
behind thick storm clouds, sparking with lightning. The rain is
torrential, cloaking the encroaching forest in an impenetrable cloak
of dark water.
[From Farfig]
Farfig gathers up the coins and gem looking things, stuffing them in
his pack for later. He ponders the use of extra wipe paper or
kindling, but decides he doesn't have need of them right now. He nods
at Jace as thanks for the rock, but gives it a befuddled look when the
others turn away. He stashes it in the pack as well.
While covering the rear during the trek through the caves, he decides
he doesn't like being in the back, but can't recall why it seems to
bother him. Maybe he likes to be in the front and ready for action
when the dragon poop hits the windmill. He shrugs to himself and stops
the deep pondering because it's starting to give him a headache.
Upon reaching the exit, he looks out through the downpour over the
trees. "Well, I'm good." Farfig drops his pack and starts to gather
any dry materials near the entrance for a fire, intending to wait out
the weather in the dry cave. After a bit he recalls the kindling and
robes and thinks they just might be put to good use.
[From Jack]
Jack is quiet during the treck to the surface noting every detail of the cavern. He sees some of the minor ingredients needed to make gunpowder and collects them as they go.
Once at the entrance to the cave Jack nods to Farfig. "I agree, I'd rather keep my powder dry. Lets just keep an eye behind us, dont want any of those bodies sneaking up on us."
Jack helps to get the fire going and hunts around for anything to eat within the cave.
[From Jace]
"I agree, I prefer to stay dry. If you wish to start a fire go a head but it might just draw more attention to us."
"I'll take last watch if you want. Ohh and Farfig, that stone works if you hold it up by your head and let it go."
The DM
As the three of you arrange yourselves in the cave to wait out the
storm, Jack gets a small fire crackling. Farfig itches at fresh scab
on the side of his head and contentedly counts his bruises. Jace casts
wary glances at the shadows, both inside the cave and out. Settling in
to await a slightly less damp dawn, the three of you take turns at
watch. Without discussing it, Jace takes the first watch, Jack the
second, and Farfig the final. An old routine perhaps? Or just the ease
of old companions falling into a familiar rhythm.
With the dawn, the rain diminishes to a light drizzle, cold and quiet.
Through the twilight of dawn, a game trail is evident, leading
straight out from the cave. Stepping out enough to look up, the party
can see the cave is in the face of a sheer mountainside, many hundreds
of feet high, its face a shale gray, pocked and marked with moss and
lichen.
Farfig is the first to note the fresh, and abundant, wolf tracks in
the mud of the game trail. Some of them bigger than Farfig's spread
hand.
[From Jack]
"Well its easier to follow a path than it is to push through the
forest. Keep your eyes open, any idea where to go to?"
Jack will follow what the group wants. "I do best at short distances
if you guys forgot, also I'm sorry if you get caught in any blast. My
bombs don't care who they blow up."
Jack grins a little as they walk down the path he is excited at the
prospect of a fight and a fresh path to follow. He eases his gun
around to the front of his belt and readies it for action.
[From Farfig]
Farfig pushes on down the path, using his sword as necessary to clear
the way. He keeps his eyes open for wolves, because you never know
when you could use a good giant wolf mount.
Or a giant wolf head mounted on a wall...
With fangs. And a nice fur cape. Or a wolfskin cap with the tail down
the back. Maybe raise some pups to fetch my slippers. Or hunt vampires
with. Woah, mounted wolf-riding vampire slayers with fur capes and
caps! I'm so there dude...
"Anyone have some garlic?"
[From Jace]
Dire Wolves... That's a pack of fun I'd prefer to avoid. They always
hear you coming and have smelled you coming for even longer. Damn near
impossible to get a jump on something that hunts to live.
Hey Farfig can you try not to make so much noise. And what makes you
think of Vampires out here? And Garlic? Are you hungry? Because the
only thing Garlic does to Vampires is give them a bit of bad breath.
Jace offers some of his rations to Farfig. Here have some Jerky, it's
not garlic but it tastes better.
Ok I'm going to try to scout up a ways so if you guys could do your
best to be somewhat quiet. Ohh and Jack, I'm nimble and all but I
really hate having to replace my clothes so try to keep those bombs
away from me. I'd hate for there to be any misunderstandings...
At that Jace deftly runs ahead, disappearing into the barely lit, dewy
foliage.
[From Jack]
"Sure I'll do my best to keep the explosives from hurting you." Jack shouts to
the receding figure of Jace with a smirk.
What does he think, I can tell a bomb where to blow up and where not to?
Jack will take the rearguard position one hand rests lightly on his pistol to
other holds a vial of his precious mutagen.
The DM
As you set out into the tree line, tromping through the mud, the water
still dripping from the thin canopy of leaves above, the sun breaks a
few beams free of the clouds. In the light, you can make out a castle
nearby, roughly a mile away. Perched, north, atop the cliff wall you
just exited, its crenelated battlements cast deep shadows on the
ground far below.
The trail you're on heads west from the cave, plunging deep into a
primeval wood. The moss and underbrush are deep, punctuated at
frequent intervals by rocky outcroppings and gnarled roots. The trail
winds, snaking between rock and root, tree and bowl. Numerous smaller
trails intersect at random, but none rival the vein of mud that leads
you on. Above, in the branches, you can make out the occasional animal
noise and once, while scouting ahead, Jace sneaks upon a doe, brown
and white furred. Hearing the crashing footsteps of Farfig, her eyes
widen and she darts down a small trail into the safety of the dense
forest.
After a short while, the trail delivers the group to a swift running river,
roughly a hundred feet across. The stones beneath are a rich deep red,
casting a crimson tint on the running water above. While shallow at
the bank, its depth is lost to sight a few dozen feet across, making
it impossible to divine the depth at the center. The opposite bank is
a less dense tree line that gives way to a rapidly rising hill.
To the north, a quarter mile or less away, a stone and timber bridge
spans the river, connecting east and west banks.
The surroundings, here at the river, and especially the bridge, seem
so familiar. Farfig is struck by the memory of fending off two large
dire wolves at the east end once. His legs deep in snow, his breath
coming out in the slow metered puffs of mist that countered the snarls
and snaps of the two beasts that failed to recognize the death in his
eyes. Jace and Jack both recall having once ridden a wagon across,
headed east towards the cliff, laden down with large clay pots, their
contents hard to remember, but valuable. As quick as they come, the
memories fade into the gray depths that cloud your minds.
